e was a tall, spare woman, with a firm
mouth, keen blue eyes, and a look of patient endurance in her face,
bred by the stern life of pioneer New England. Far away across the
pasture which sloped southward from the cabin she could see long
meadow grass waving in the breeze, and beyond a thread of blue water
where the Charles River flowed lazily to the sea. Westward there was
also pasture land where sheep were grazing, and in the distance a
glimpse of the thatched roofs of the little village of Cambridge.

Goodwife Pepperell gazed long and earnestly in this direction, and
then, making a trumpet of her hands, sent a call ringing across the
silent fields. "Nancy! Daniel!" she shouted.

She was answered only by the tinkle of sheep bells. A shade of anxiety
clouded the blue eyes as she went round to the back of the cabin and
looked toward the dense forest which bounded her vision on the north.
Stout-hearted though she was, Goodwife Pepperell could never forget
the terrors which lay concealed behind that mysterious rampart of
green. Not only were there wolves and deer and many other wild
creatures hidden in its depths, but it sheltered also the perpetual
menace of the Indians. Toward the east, at some distance from the
cabin, corn-fields stretched to salt meadows, and beyond, across the
bay, she could see the three hills of Boston town.[1]

[Footnote 1: See map.]

As no answering shout greeted her from this direction either, the
Goodwife stepped quickly toward a hollow stump which stood a short
distance from the cabin. Beside the stump a slender birch tree bent
beneath the weight of a large circular piece of wood hung to its top
by a leather thong. This was the samp-mill, where their corn was
pounded into meal. Seizing the birch tree with her hands, she brought
the wooden pestle down into the hollow stump with a resounding thump.
The birch tree sprang back lifting the block with it and again she
pulled it down and struck the stump another blow, then paused to
listen. This time there was, beside the echo, an answering shout, and
in a few moments two heads appeared above the rows of young corn just
peeping out of the ground, two pairs of lively bare feet came flying
across the garden patch, and a breathless boy and girl stood beside
their mother.

They were a sturdy pair of twelve-year-olds, the boy an inch or more
taller than his sister, and both with the blue eyes, fair skin, and
rosy cheeks which proclaimed their Englis